


Argus and Hermes

by Broken_Clover



Category: Guilty Gear
Genre: Body Horror, Gen, Mild Blood, Mythology References, Weirdness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-11 20:17:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20159491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Broken_Clover/pseuds/Broken_Clover
Summary: The ancient trickster and a many-eyed monster.





	Argus and Hermes

The first word of the peculiarity came to him in the middle of his afternoon tea. A frightened agent, gone sheet-white, rushed into his parlor, so absolutely terrified out of his wits that he neglected any sort of manners or greeting. Slayer had forgiven him for the time being, quickly finding himself intrigued as he spoke, and too curious to rouse anger.

The scene his servant relayed was one of a nightmare come to life. A simple perimeter scan, a routine walk through the woods, suddenly interrupted by a monster unlike anything he had seen before. A twisting terror of limbs and fangs and eerie light, thrashing and howling like a beast gone mad as it clawed at whatever it could reach. 

Slayer found it utterly fascinating. Centuries upon centuries of life had passed for him, and yet on rare occasions, something completely new blessed the mundane.

He had decided to indulge, out of his own curiosity. The affairs of men were often something he liked to avoid nowadays, but he could still seek out the things that interested him- oddities, the idiosyncrasies and quirks of the world.

It didn’t take much effort to find the signs of his new curiosity, the trail of half-destroyed trees and discordant shrieks was enough of a sign to point him in the right direction. Jet-black wings unfurled against the clouds, beating against the sky with such elegance that it appeared almost effortless. The rest of his agents had been called to retreat, just as much for his benefit as it was for theirs. This was a matter he would have rather handled on his own.

Something faint glowed in between the branches of shaking trees. Feeling a smile on his lips, Slayer let the wind carry him back towards the ground. He was quite eager to meet this new oddity.

It may have been a horrifying sight, if he had been a lesser man. The writhing figure before him was scarcely recognizable as even human-shaped. There was a vague similarity at its core, but it was difficult to notice, hidden behind scuttling centipedes that sprouted from skin, dancing bluish lights that flared and popped irritably, and a dozen half-formed faces that gnashed at the air furiously, eyes blinking and darting around but never settling in one true direction. A Gear? He sensed no such blood within it. An eerie energy seeped from it, but something distinctly different.

Slayer, ancient as he was, found it almost bizarrely charming. The image reminded him of an old tale, that of Argus. The loyal servant of Hera, never resting or deserting his duty of watching over Io. A true paragon of steadfast devotion.

In that case, would that make him, with his powerful wings, the trickster god Hermes? The servant’s assassin, with tricks and mischief up every sleeve until the final moment where he removed the creature’s head?

If he wished, it would have been easy to slaughter his opponent like a dog. But wherein that would lie any enjoyment, any intrigue? No, he could fix this, without such brutality. 

“A fond greetings.” He said, extending a hand as though offering a dance. It was a sentiment gone unreciprocated, met with only a shrill, baleful cry. One of the long centipedes shot out in an attempt to sink its pincers into his body, deftly avoided.

There was no sign of a coherent mind in any of the twitching eyes. No clear thoughts or intentions. Nothing truly insidious, merely a frantic beast lashing out in fear and pain. A quartet of voices cried in tandem, attempting to swallow one another up with their furious wails. No point in trying to speak with it, he knew it wouldn’t understand.

A sharpened hunk of metal flew towards him, sidestepped immediately. 

It grew more and more infuriated as he dodged, growling and foaming at the mouth. Strikes grew more ferocious, but also more reckless, making it even easier for Slayer to avoid them. He knew the beast would tire soon. Whatever had irritated it so would hopefully die down with enough exercise. There wasn’t going to be much polite conversation with the state it was in. 

The beast careened through the woods, barely dodging branches and roots. Forests weren’t the ideal fighting ground for either of them, but Slayer was much less affected. He could still dodge and slip aside, but the sheer amount of loose limbs, asynchronous movements, and pure anger made it difficult for them to traverse without clipping pincers and tentacles on tree branches

At least, it made it easier to tire the creature out. The vampire took a momentary pause, leaning against a thick trunk while taking a puff from his old pipe. The way the light shone on the leaves stirred inspiration in him. He managed to think of the proper haiku to capture it, stepping away from his support just in time for his opponent to find their bearings and charge again.

A horrific snapping sounded as the figure slammed into the tree. Slayer knew it well, the sound of human bones breaking. He’d at least been expecting some kind of Gear, but as he watched the tangle of limbs twitch and tangle, the whole menagerie stuttered in pain, wailing even louder with renewed vigor.

How odd. He could sense the otherworldly energy that the creature practically emitted in waves. Still, there was an undeniably human core to it, to which all the other manifestations attached to. A channeler? How rare. He’d been drawn to many so-called ‘summoners’ over the years, almost all of them mere parlor magicians and shysters. What had caused this one to become so overrun with spirits? An unwary scholar, perhaps? Merely an incidental twist of fate? Did they even know of their own predicament? Only a fool would put themselves in such a state deliberately. 

It only added more fuel to the man’s curiosity. Even if this fellow was the most reckless fool on the face of the earth, there was a definite story to be had. A bit of intrigue. Slayer liked that. He just had to know more about this peculiar stranger.

There would be no point in trying to talk them down, even now. The spirits were so lost in their own frenzied madness that they’d barely hear him. Now that he knew what he was fighting, it seemed even more of a hazard. Reckless as they were with their host, the spirits relied on the summoner in order to manifest. There was a chance that they’d become too restless, killing their own host in panic. It was no longer merely a matter of subduing a threat, he had to find a way to keep the menagerie from destroying itself altogether.

No fists, no fighting, and no conversation. Still, Slayer was a man of many talents, and many more tricks.

“Let me tell you a story, my friend…”

They didn’t react at first. They hardly even seemed to notice the change until the melody began.

An eldritch tune was sung in a velvet-soft baritone, an endless tale of civilizations and heroes and great calamities. A song Slayer knew well, though rarely had a reason to use. Poetry was versatile, suited to many a mood or scene. But a melody was different, something to be savored and saved for a proper audience. 

Still, a restless child was just as much an audience as a crowd of high-class aristocrats. The song was just as much a lullaby as it was a story. 

Stanza after stanza ebbed and flowed, and finally, something seemed to take effect. The swipes and slashes grew sloppy, before vanishing entirely. He watched the formless faces twitch and blink in confusion, slowly being lulled by the music. Several sets of eyes blinked sleepily before closing, the flesh fusing back together over where they used to be.

The final eyes to close were the true ones, dull sapphire fluttering and straining to stay open, despite the body’s tiredness and pleading for rest. Slayer caught the ruined, bleeding figure as it stumbled and collapsed. With what little strength remained in their body, they squirmed and attempted to push away in fear. It would have been ineffective even in good health, but they immediately bucked in pain, bloodied hands grasping at broken ribs.

“Shh…it’s alright.”

They seemed to take no solace in his platitudes, continuing to painfully gasp and squirm in his hands. Slayer took no disappointment from it. Humans were skittish things, after all.

Instead, he went back to singing, crooning another verse as he started to stroke sable-soft hair with a father’s loving touch. It seemed apt. Without the extra pieces attached in a mishmash, it seemed the channeler was quite a young fellow. What were they doing, wandering around in the woods like this? The woods were no place for someone like this. Someone needed to look after them.

Slayer wasn’t entirely sure when the stranger finally fell asleep in his arms. The anger and distress finally vanished from their expression. There was still the matter of the cuts and scrapes and broken bones, but for the moment, they finally seemed content.

Oh, if only Sharon were there to tease him. He wasn’t as much a songster as he used to be, but it always seemed like the times where he did have to use that skill was in the most bizarre of situations. It would be quite the story to tell her while the medics were busy working. She was just going to love the new guest. Sharon loved the peculiar almost as much as she did.

After all, she’d been willing to marry him, hadn’t she?

Once more, black wings spread wide. “...Sleep well, little Argus.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what this is, please do not ask. I cannot offer answers.


End file.
